The air smelled of expensive wine and fluorescent candles burning to a waxy liquid. The distinct sound of joyous laughter mixed with glasses clinking against each other saturated the air beside a crackling fire burning in the fireplace. The whole downstairs floor was littered with adult men with the accompanying wife every here and there, their rich talk exploited with a little too much alcohol running from their lips bouncing off of every wall in the house. Button down shirts and nice pants was the only attire in sight, not including the simple dresses of subtle colors pairing with them. It wasn't too late into the evening, but far enough in that the sky fell to a midnight blue and the air held a crisp coldness to its touch. Somewhere in the kitchen inside of the two story house, a conversation other than business talk and a new fashionable car arranged itself between two rather interesting party attendees. 

"I can't be a police officer when I grow up." Riley said with a small frown painted upon her young and youthful lips. She sat across the lap of her father's work partner, or 'police officer buddy' as he'd referred him to as well. 

Rick Grimes raised his glass to his lips, only taking a small sip of the substance in the crystallized glass before setting it down onto the table top again. "Why is that?"

"Because my brother already said he wants to do that. So I have to pick something else." Riley explained casually. "And since he's twelve he get's to pick first, because he'll get a job before I do."

Rick shrugged with a small shake of his head. "Just 'cause he wants to be an officer doesn't mean you can't too. You guys can work together."

"No, I don't think I want to. I want to go see space instead." The little girl said in a rather decisive tone.

"Ah, like an astronaut?"

"Yeah, because then I can land on Mars and visit all the aliens." Riley grinned, the little gap where her front two teeth should be being put on display for the older man.

"Really?" He nodded, not bothering to mask the laugh that came out shortly. "You gonna talk to 'em too?"

"No," Riley scoffed. "Aliens can't speak English, they only speak Russian. That's what Sawyer told me."

"Is that right? Well, why don't you go learn Russian then? This way you can have your own conversation with the aliens." Rick suggested, swirling the liquid in his glass.

"I think when I'm older I will. Right now my dad is making me take French, because that's what my mom was before she left. Also, I don't think I want to spend that much time on Mars. I want to see the sun and the moon and the stars, too." Riley pointed out, scratching her knee with her ring finger.

"Mm," Rick hummed with a nod. "That'd be a sight to see. You ever see the moon from here on earth?"

"Every night, I do. I can see it from my window in my room. Tonight it's going to be full, that's the most it can ever get." Riley said earnestly, her lips broadening in a smile.

"Damn right it is. It's even cooler when you go to space and see it up close, then it'll be the biggest thing you've ever seen." Rick said with a raise of his eyebrows.

"How big is it?" Riley's head tilted, as if curiosity was weighing it down to her shoulder.

"Oh, big, big." Rick outstretched his arm high above their heads, raising his fingertips to the ceiling. Riley tilted her head back, watching with a giggle as the man's appendages wiggled in the open air.

"When I'm old enough, I'll go up there and see it for myself. I'll take a picture of it, too." The little girl said with a confirmative nod.

"Oh, yeah? On that camera you said you got, right?" 

"Yeah, the one Otis bought for me on my birthday. I showed it to you." Riley's little mouth twitched into a grin at the man's recollection.

"Yeah, when you turned six." Rick said, furrowing his eyebrows as if second guessing himself slightly- only as a response to the girl's frown. She shook her head. "Seven?"

"Yeah." Riley nodded again, the waterfall of chocolate brown hair bobbing at the scalp with the motion.

"Wow, seven. That's a big one." Rick said with false surprise.

"That's super close to ten, and when I'm ten I can start my pre-driving lessons. My dad said he'd teach me." Riley said, only the faint hint of a brag lacing her childlike tone.

"Did he now?" Rick tilted his head, looking away to hide the huff of surprise that escaped his lips. "I might need to talk to him about that."

"Why? I can do it." Riley stated with confidence.

"Oh, I bet you can. It's your dad I'm worried about. Did 'ya know we never let him in the driver's seat at the cars at the station? Nothin' personal, he's just not a very good driver." Rick whispered the last part, leaning closer to the girl's ear, causing her to giggle at the tickle of his breath on her neck.

She rubbed the shell of her ear with her shoulder. "Yeah, my stepmom always tells him to be careful when he drives. I never know if she's actually worried or just pretending to be because she's a suck-off."

"Hey now, language." Rick angled his head down as he stared at her. 

"It's not my fault." Riley raised her hands up in the air. "My brother said it first, not me. He says stuff like that a lot."

"About your stepmom?" Rick asked.

"Sometimes, not all the time. He just says stuff he hears at school. But he doesn't really like her, I don't either. She always tries to tell me what to do and makes me go to bed by eight, even though dad lets me stay up 'till nine." Riley admitted with a knowing tone. She glanced around, making sure neither her father or her stepmother were in ear shot.

"Well, it's ten-thirty right now. You're beating your usual record." Rick said with a quick look at the watch on his wrist.

"No. After they go to bed I go to Sawyer's room, and he lets me watch him play video games until late. Sometimes he lets me play too." Riley grinned that toothy grin again.

"Your brother sounds like a real good brother. You're lucky." Rick smiled softly, but his eyes carried a little touch of something much deeper.

"I am. He's my favorite brother."

"You got more than one?"

"No, but he's still my favorite." Riley shrugged. "Does your kid have a brother?"

"No, not yet." Rick shook his head. "I don't think he's gonna get another sibling."

"Why not?" Riley cocked her head.

"Me and his mama are working some other stuff out right now- adult stuff. Maybe when that's all over we'll get my son another." Rick answered haphazardly with a small shake of his head.

"What kind of adult stuff?" Riley interrogated.

Rick inhaled a deep breath, looking away as if deciding how to tell her 'no' in the easiest way. He lifted his shoulders covered in their fancy black attire.

"Come on, I can handle it." 

"I'm sure you can. But we don't have to ruin the good times with the stupid stuff, right?" Rick asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"No, I guess not." Riley agreed with little reluctance. She shrugged the topic away, rubbing at her tired, young, eyes with the back of her hands.

"You tired?" Rick asked, a gentle smile forming itself on his face. He watched as the girl in his lap shook her head, swallowing back a yawn. "Let me tuck you in."

Riley shook her head. "I can stay up later. I promise, I do it all the time." But her head had nuzzled itself into the crook of the man's shoulder, eyelids falling as if they were wrists coated with the heaviest rocks in an ocean of deep blue water. Rick had stood up, downing the rest of the wine in his glass before setting down his cup.

Riley was already asleep by the time he'd reached the stairs.

Riley sat on top of the kitchen counter, the cool marble surface chilling her thighs through her jeans against the warmth of the air. She pulled the tip of her pinky finger out of her mouth, ridding it of all the substance that was on it before dipping it back into the open bottle of honey balancing on her leg. She heard the front door close, and Rick's unsteady footsteps echo in the house as he clambered back toward the kitchen. He walked in, eyes falling to the golden liquid in the container on her leg.

"Did you eat breakfast yet?" He asked, walking closer.

"I let Michonne and Carl have the rest of the cereal." Riley shrugged, closing the bottle up.

"So you decided to eat plain honey instead?" Rick's body fell against the counter next to her. Beneath the puffiness and swelling, the bruises and cuts, the girl could make out an obvious cringe on his face.

"I have a sweet tooth." Riley explained, swinging her legs.

"Trust me, I know." Rick said, with a light chuckle. 

"So," She continued. "What do you plan on doing until they get back?"

Quite clearly, she was referring to Michonne and Carl, who'd left the two to go on a run in the neighborhood, hoping to stock up on supplies. The woman had knocked on their door in the early morning, having had tracked the trio down all the way from the prison. Riley was overcome with relief at the sight of another person from the prison finding them alive, the motivation to keep pushing through their days scraping rock bottom raising immensely. Not just the fact that someone had found them, but that it was Michonne too was even sweeter, as Riley had cared for the woman, a lot, actually. But despite the gift, Michonne knew nothing of anyone else's whereabouts, or who was dead or alive either. They were granted with no information, but in truth, the woman's presence was enough for Riley.

Both Michonne and Carl offered for the girl to accompany them on their run, but she declined. As much as she'd enjoyed herself the previous day with Carl and how much she'd missed the older woman and was grateful for her sudden appearance, Riley'd thought it wiser- personally, to stay back with Rick. After the scare she and Carl encountered the night before, she wasn't willing to risk leaving him and having something go horribly wrong, so she decided to stay at the house with him.

Rick sucked his teeth, looking around. "I was thinking of taking a nap."

"That's boring."

"They become more appealing when you get older."

"Yeah, but I'm not old yet." Riley grinned. She hopped off of the counter, tucking her hair behind her ear. "There's probably something around here we can do. Like, what about boardgames?"

"Boardgames." Rick said, squinting his eyes. 

"Or not." Riley pressed her lips together, noticing the silent rejection to the offer. She walked into the living room, the patter of Rick's steps following her like a shadow.

"Ooh, what about charades?" She asked giddily, holding up a pair of black sunglasses hanging on the mantel and putting them on. "Like Men in Black, get a little Will Smith action in here?"

"I haven't seen that movie in forever. Don't think that'd go down too well." Rick admitted with a slight wheeze, limping over to a bookcase. He peered at it, ignoring the way Riley moved about the room, picking up random things with little comments and what not. "Hey, you ever learn how to dance? Like, a real dance that you do at balls?"

"No," Riley shook her head, turning around to face him with an action figure in her hands. A teasing grin grew on her face. "Why, were you the dancing queen of your time?"

"You say that like I'm prehistoric." Rick chuckled, fiddling around with a disc between his fingers.

"They're pretty comparable."

"No." Rick placed the disk into something, his hands moving slowly and sorely, as if he were a rusted metal machine operating with ever so little oil. Riley watched with interest.

"Come over here," Rick said, his voice gruff and scratched, but still somehow so genuine and comforting. His words were laced with the sweetness of his accent, blooming with his actions to come as he held out his hand.

Riley placed the small toy in her hands on a nearby coffee table, walking toward the older man. He reached behind him, messing with a little something Riley wasn't quite sure of before turning back to her. A choppy music began to play, its audio crackly and a little strange before clearing up. Its tune was that of something you'd hear straight out of an old movie, where they held fancy dances with rich champagne and tailored suits. The Endicott could remember the familiar sound, as she'd definitely watched films like that when she was younger. The old reference was comforting.

Rick moved them to the middle of the room, the floor mostly cleared as the couches were positioned against the front door and other furniture was either non existent or close to the sofas as they were being used to hold things like water bottles and knives.

"This hand," Rick said, picking up one of the girl's own and placing it on shoulder. "Goes right here. Your other one holds mine."

He intertwined their fingers, stretching their arms out a bit. The bend at their elbows was slight, or at least more for Riley's hence her shorter limbs. Her arm was outstretched a little more, while Rick's was curved a bit to try and level with her's. He placed his palm on her waist, looking down and into the depths of her face through his beaten eyes. In the details of Riley's features, he could see the works and wonders of her father. She took after him so much. A little too much, because despite their opposites in gender sometimes Rick was startled by their similarities, and when he glanced in her direction too quickly, he was met with the replica of his best friend who had died right before Rick could see him again. A painful memory it was, a tender touch when he saw his expressions etched onto her face, but he was more grateful than anything to have the beautiful gift of the girl, of her and her brother, to remind him of who their father once was.

"Now, there's a few ways you can do this. But I'm gonna teach you a simple one, okay?" Rick said, listening to the soft rhythm of the music that echoed flourishingly around the room.

"Okay." Riley nodded, swishing her head a little to move the hair from her face. She squeezed Rick's hand in her own a little tighter.

"Step back with this foot." Rick tilted his head toward one of her legs, and Riley obliged easily. As she did so, she took notice as to how Rick replaced where her own step once was with his leg. "Good."

He then instructed her to move to the side. Then forward, then to the side again, and like a perfect pattern, backwards. 

"Oh, sorry." Riley muttered as she stepped back with the wrong foot, messing up their cyclic movement.

"No, you're good, you're good. Just be consistent, use that same leg every time." Rick said reassuringly.

Riley nodded, beginning to stop her fit of focus and instead let each step and each sway become more natural, as if someone other than herself were maneuvering her body with care and preciseness like graceful dancer pulled from the late night parties from the nineteen hundreds.

A small laugh left Riley's mouth as she felt herself catch the hang of the simple dance with ease. She looked up at Rick, silently searching for the praise in his face. She was met with a broad grin and eyes crinkled from the smile painted along his lips.

"Good." He said. "Now just wait a second, we gotta match up with the song. You hear that rhythm? Every time it goes down and up- just like that, you take a step again. Got it?" 

"Yeah." Riley nodded, biting her lip in concentration and waiting for the next dip in the music's saccharine tune. When it came, her foot replaced itself behind her, her body moving with it. The satisfaction of the movement filled her body with a joyous tingle.

"'Atta girl." Rick grinned, as he moved with her.

Riley's chapped lips couldn't help but widen into a smile. For that whole time, she'd forgotten of her thirst and hunger, of her cuts and bruises. The thought of Meg's thinned presence and the sight of her torn body even managed to slip away, carried out by the wash of the music's soft harmony. The blanket of guilt from the three deaths she'd felt burdened by, the three deaths of whom she'd felt the warmth of splattered blood had lifted and disintegrated. All of them drowned by the loud and yet easy hum of the music.

Back, side, forward, side, back again. It was a cycle, and Riley felt that if she'd kept herself in the safe current of that rhythm, holding onto Rick's hand with nothing but the serene melodies and the man's laugh and validation swimming through her ears, she'd be perfectly fine. Perfectly safe from everything outside of the living room in which they danced. She grinned as he twirled her around, pulling her back again as they continued the movement, every time the cycle repeated itself it once again brought that consoling feeling of safety and comfort, every laugh was sincere and every smile was blindingly bright.

"Girls in the public schools used to do dances like this." Riley commented at one point. "I remember my friend went to one once. Her and her dad got all dressed up, came back really late. But she said it was fun, though."

Rick hummed. "You never went to any?"

"No, I was homeschooled, remember?"

"Oh, that's right. I forgot." Rick nodded. "I never went to one either. Carl and Lori went to a few back when he was still in elementary school. I always stayed back 'cause we never had a daughter."

Riley thought of Judith, and her gaze fell. Regardless of the infant's passing during the prison fall, the two would never be able to attend one of those fancy school dances anyway. With the apocalypse, all of those hopes and luxuries were erased. She glanced back up into Rick's slightly crestfallen face, and realized her slow departure from her current of safety. She submerged herself in once again.

"Well, we're having our own right now, aren't we?" She asked with a little smile on her face.

Rick chuckled, nodding as he spun her around again. "Damn right we are."

He held her closer, the two of them dancing around the morning light with the warmth of a four walled house encasing them, like a beautiful play caught in the perfect picture. Riley grinned up at Rick, the whites of her teeth shimmering between her open lipped smile. The older man who which Riley felt so incredibly grateful towards to accept her as a child of his own peered down at her, the admiration of a silent, welcoming, love shimmering on the surface of his skin. Riley may have been standing in a random house amongst many others in a deserted neighborhood after the brutal losses of their family, frolicking in the aftermath of their fallen home who'd sunk into the depths of war and bloodshed, but she had never felt safer, more content and happy than she did now, dancing in the sunlight in Rick's open arms.

"Try it." Rick said, nodding his head toward the open bottle in Riley's hands.

They sat on the couch that was propped against the front door, blocking anyone or anything from entering their claimed home. In Riley's loose grasp, a brown bottle of thick glass swished around a foul smelling liquid.

"Okay- just like-," Riley imitated tilting the glass, keeping her eyes trained on Rick for reassurance.

"Is this your first time trying alcohol?" The man asked with a squint, a possible reconsideration of his decisions coming to mind. They'd found the bottle underneath the sink in the kitchen, and somehow, Riley had managed to convince Rick to let her try a taste. Her weak reasoning of not knowing when they'd find the substance again as well as there being no possibility of any harm coming to either of them seemed strong enough to allow the Grimes to give in.

Riley dropped her gaze. "No." She muttered, whether it was a lie or not, she'd never tell.

Rick let out a little scoff, his disbelief coming quite clear, but Riley ignored him. She tilted the bottle up slowly, a little hesitant to let the liquid touch the plush of her lips. When it did, the first thing she felt was the coolness of the fluid, and then the sting of the alcohol seeping into her chapped skin. Her nose twitched a bit from the sting, but as soon as it came it was gone. She opened her lips a little wider and tilted her head back, letting the watery substance run down her dry mouth. It burned at her throat, but came in steady waves all the same as Riley kept the bottle up.

"Easy, now." Rick said with caution as he leaned over and closer to her.

Riley brought the bottle down from her mouth, face morphed into a tight squeeze as a reaction to the nasty liquid. She coughed, her eyes close to watering as she choked, fighting to take a breath of clean air that failed to be intoxicated by the lingering effects of the alcohol. 

"Tastes like shit." She wheezed, blinking rapidly with a deep breath before grinning widely. "I love it."

"Yeah?" Rick laughed, holding his hand out for the bottle. "Well, I'll take it from you before you get too addicted. That never ends up too pretty."

"I know. Hershel had an addiction for a long time before he fixed himself up. Sawyer told me a few years ago." Riley said, leaning back into the cushions. She missed the old man, his death had left a blaring absence in her life- everyone who'd left had. She'd realized that in a way, practically all of them had left her somehow or another, either by death or by separation. It was an antagonizing and lonely thought.

"Yeah, he told me." Rick nodded, head falling a bit. 

Riley stared at the floor, swallowing as she pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin between the bumps of her knees. Her tongue tingled from the aftertaste of the strange liquid she'd just consumed, like pins and needles dancing they way she and Rick had before on the surface of her mouth. Her body felt heavy, like it was tired, although her mind was awake. Sorrow really did carry a burden heavier than any weight in the world.

"I miss him." Riley said quietly. "I miss home. I miss all of them."

"I know." Rick replied, a sigh following his words. He held out his arm, beckoning the girl to come and bury herself in the comfort of his hold, and she did. "I wish- I wish I could've stopped it. All of it."

Riley nodded, her cheek squished by the man's broad shoulder. She closed her eyes. "Me too."

"How are you holding up? With all of it, I mean. I've been wanting to ask you, just check in. I know it's been hard." Rick said, his palm rubbing up and down her arm.

Riley shrugged. "It's shitty."

Rick let out a dry laugh, not bothering to scold her language in the mood of the moment. "I know it is."

"I just wish we had more time, I was so close to saving her. I could've done it- I just..." Riley rubbed her lips together, feeling the numbness of culpability eat at her again. She didn't mention Meg's name, but it was quite clear to who the girl was referencing.

"Don't put that blame on yourself." Rick stated firmly. Though his voice didn't raise in volume, the solidity stood there still. "There was nothing you could do any more, it- it was over for her at that point."

"No." Riley shook her head. "No, I could've done something. There was still time for her-if I'd just moved faster she's still be here right now."

"That's not true. She was too far gone, Riley. She would be dead anyway." Rick's body was rigid now, not very, but still. His tone heightened a little.

Riley frowned. "What does that mean?"

Rick took a deep breath, running his hand over his face. He turned his head away, as if praying Carl and Michonne would come knocking at the door despite the fact they'd left only an hour ago.

Riley sat up, looking at the man with narrowed eyes and a strange burn at the back of her throat. "What does that mean, Rick?"

"Riley..." Rick turned back to face her, his face washed over with culpable shame. His head titled for a moment, as if the words were blocked by a barricade behind his teeth.

"What?" She asked again, voice raising with a strain. "She got sick, Sawyer got her sick, or- or someone in the ward. There was still a chance for her to be okay again, right?"

Rick's head shook a little, his beaten face even more downhearted beneath his wounds. "She wasn't sick, Riles."

"What do you-?" Riley's voice faltered, her eyes following Rick with an accusingly broken glare. "Rick, what was wrong with her?"

"She-" Rick sighed, going over his face with his hand yet again, glancing away before staring the girl in the eyes again. "She wasn't sick. She was bit, Riley."

Upon those four words falling through the air, traveling throughout the little space between the two until it reached Riley's ears, the girl felt her stomach drop. Her face drained of all color it once possessed and a nauseating feeling squeezed her intestines and strained her lungs until she had to inhale a deep and sudden breath to keep herself from passing out.

"No." Her voice was quiet, breaking off and falling away into the unknown. "No." She said again, stronger.

"Riley." Rick whispered her name like he wasn't sure if it was alright to speak, as if it were the only thing he could say to keep her grounded.

"You knew?" Riley felt her eyebrows pinch together, her eyes stinging with the fullness of fresh tears. Her face morphed into an expression of betrayal. "When?"

"Earlier during the day we fought the walkers." Rick said, wincing. Speaking the words aloud felt incredibly wrong, as he knew the time frame would only harshen the blow. "I'm sorry, Riley. I didn't think- I thought..."

"No." Riley cut him off as her throat began to close. She sucked in a breath to try and open it, her face falling as the first tears she allowed herself to shed ever since the fall began to stream down her face. "If this is some kind of sick joke you better- you better tell me right now."

"I'm sorry, Riley." Rick's fingers tried to brush the tears off of her face, but more kept replacing them. His words fell onto deaf ears. Riley's face split into an expression of pure anguish as the man failed to assure her that everything was some false trickery, that he was just kidding and that her mother wasn't already dead before her murder was put on show for the girl.

"You knew. You knew and you didn't say anything." Riley's words came out in a blank statement as she pulled away from him.

"I thought someone was going to tell you, I thought she was." Rick reached out for her, but Riley stood up, stumbling away with her hand shaking in front of her face.

Her face hurt from how hard it was strained as silent sobs began to be pulled from her chest. Meg was destined to die anyway. She'd been bit for hours upon hours and Rick had known the whole entire time and still looked straight into Riley's face without saying a word about it. All of the guilt Riley felt, all of the overwhelming pain she'd suffered after believing wholeheartedly that she could've done something to save her mother was for nothing. She'd wasted her efforts on trying to save a woman barreling toward death's warm embrace with no brakes, and through it all it'd been her fault. Riley's mind strayed to the night before the incident and somehow, that insane burden of pain doubled in size. 

"She wanted to talk." The single sentence was barely audible, as the little breath she had left didn't allow her to speak clearly in any way at all. She felt her knees buckle and she gripped the couch's edge for support, ripping her hand away from Rick's outstretched reach to try and help her. "She wanted to talk to me."

"Riley, it wasn't your fault." Rick said in a tough yet pleadingly desperate voice. He struggled to stand, but the girl in front of him offered no support.

She only cried, face broken into despairing expression as tears warmed her face with sticky reminders of the blood that had flowed out of Meg's body upon her death. She battled with her lungs to try and obtain a breath, even though the attempt proved worthless. 

"You never told me." She sobbed, her hand rising to point at him. "How could you do that?"

"Riley, I didn't-"

"You saw her that morning! You knew I didn't know." Riley's torn words grew to full on shouts. She had no idea if what she was saying was true or not, but she didn't care. Her body was shaking with the familiar sense of loss again, like she was reliving the moment with a new insight of grief and the only way she could try and jerk it away was by placing the blame on someone else. The pain of it all blinded her fiercely, the tears in her eyes blurring her sight until she shut her lids, submerging herself in black.

"I'm sorry, Riley." Rick uttered, holding his hand out slightly for balance and the hope that the girl would come forward to him. "I didn't- I wanted to tell you."

"But you didn't." Riley cried, opening her eyes with a shaking sob. Rick tried to move forward, but she stepped backwards again. "Don't. Don't touch me."

Rick's face fell, his arm following shortly after. He swallowed, head dropping before he raised it again to look at the weak sight in front of him. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He knew the girl would know at some point, whether by figuring it out on her own or being told. Meg was supposed to speak to her at one point, and it was true that he had known it didn't go as planned, that Riley had turned her away and shut her down. But soon after Meg laid the news onto him he'd gotten word that the Governor was outside of the prison fences, an army by his side. After everything, he didn't have the strength in him- physically or mentally to tell Riley of her stepmother's bite, throughout the wreckage and suffering of it all the smaller fact had slipped his mind. And although it was a slight thing compared to everything else, he hadn't realized how much of an impact it would have on the girl when she found out. Now it deemed too late.

"You never told me." She whispered again, pulling Rick out of his thoughts. The bottom of Riley's palms dug themselves into her closed eyes, her nails raking at her scalp. Her body still shook with frail sobs. "You never told me."

"Riley." Rick mumbled. The name felt futile on his tongue. 

Riley's hands dropped, one falling to her stomach that felt sick with shame and guilt and grief and sadness and every gut wrenching feeling under the treacherous sun. She glanced at Rick's face, his debilitated body, and a blazing anger burned her body from the inside out. She felt disgusted looking into his face, and maybe it was true that the detail in her mother's death was slight, that she was possibly overreacting, but the fact that her mother was walking toward death's gates before the downfall of the prison even happened, and that Rick knew and still left her alone in the shadows made Riley seethe with rage. She shook her head, trying to blink away her wall of tears to see him clearly, but failing. She turned away from him, squeezing her hand over her mouth as to cease the sobs that fell from it and as she ran upstairs, far away from Rick so that he couldn't hear the way she cried like a little child on the floor of the chilled bathroom.

And he let her.

Riley sat on the cold stone floors of the washroom in the house. Her sobs had stopped, face cleared of any crocodile tears she'd produced before, although her body still flinched occasionally. She leaned against the toilet, the coolness of the porcelain contrasting cleanly with the heat of her body. A little earlier, she'd heard Rick come up the stairs, and silently pleaded to herself that he wouldn't come looking for her, and he didn't. His footsteps had stopped coming down the hall and instead turned into the main bedroom, the springs in the bed creating a funny sound that echoed throughout the upstairs floor. Riley wasn't quite sure how long she'd spent on the bathroom floor, curled into a ball with her breaths coming in shaky and leaving choppy, but time felt like it'd stopped having meaning, and seconds morphed into minutes that morphed into hours. 

She would've sat there in a pathetic pool of hatred and misery for much longer, but then the front door opened below her. At first, she believed it to be Michonne and Carl returning from their run, and was relieved a little to not be alone with Rick in the house even longer, although the thought of any human reaction at the moment made her uncomfortably repulsed.

The idea of those two returning was diminished quickly though, as soon after she heard the deep and gravelly voice of grown men begin to talk rapidly and filthily to each other downstairs. Her head picked itself up from its position against the toilet and her eyes grew wide with tingling fear.

Words of pleads and desperate groans seeped through the floorboards and into Riley's ears, a threatening voice coming after it. The girl flinched violently when a deafening blow and a bloodcurdling array of screams dismantled the tranquility in the house. Laughter arose from the bottom floor, and the sadistic scenario built itself up in Riley's mind. Her breaths grew shallow as she tried to make her existence as quiet as possible. The fear in her body turned thick, like clots in her bloodstream that began to run her body to a beaten dust. She felt paralyzed, completely unsafe in the so called 'home' they'd taken over. But in truth, no one in this world could really own anything now, so these men could take it from her and her little group just as easily as they had in the first place.

Heavy footsteps climbed the stairs achingly slow, almost tauntingly. Riley stood up faster than her body could keep up with, and after sitting for so long the sudden change threw her off course and blackened her sight for a second. She gripped the edge of the sink, squeezing her eyes shut before opening them again. She breathed heavily, unsheathing her knife and glancing around. The man was nearly at the top of the steps, the clock was ticking loudly in her ear. She ran as quietly as her body allowed her to over to the wall next to the door, wedging herself between the sink and the wallpaper. She leaned her head out a little and peered as carefully as she could, seeing the man who'd climbed the stairs open the door to another room down the hall. He was big, buff, and carrying a gun so large that Riley's mouth ran dry. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she plastered a hand over her mouth as she leaned her head against the hard wall.

Could this day really get any shittier?  She thought to herself. The footsteps sounded again, and they grew louder, heavier, closer. Riley pushed herself as close to the corner of the wall as she could, praying that by any chance of luck she'd turn invisible to the strange man's sight. He went into another room, and Riley closed her eyes carefully.

"This will be our abode for the evening." A man's voice traveled up the stairs from his place on the bottom floor. "Clean up your mess, Harley."

Riley felt her body go numb. This wasn't a group of men passing through to round up supplies, they'd be staying there for the rest of the day and into the night, and if they felt comfortable enough, the following days as well. She gripped her knife tighter in her hand, flexing her other in attempts to soothe the muscles as they grew denser underneath her skin.

Riley didn't know how long she was standing there, cramped in the corner of the bathroom walls clutching for dear life onto her knife and her composure as she tried to stay as still and quiet as she could physically manage. It couldn't have been a short time, she figured though, as soon she heard snores begin to sound from the bedroom she and Carl had slept in two nights ago. They came in the same, irritable, pattern for minutes on end, and each time it ended Riley had to grasp onto the little seconds of peace she was granted with before they came again. She didn't need to sit with the torturous sounds for long though, because much sooner than later new footsteps clambered up the stairs and turned into the main bedroom. A conversation of antagonizing displeasure and a soon to be brawl erupted, and Riley turned her head to listen in a little more when a voice from the downstairs tore through it.

"There's a dog out there." Another man spoke, although she couldn't have told whether it was a new or old voice. She silently cursed herself for not counting them when they talked, she had no clue how many men were down there opposed to her and Rick alone- speaking of so, she had no idea if he was okay or not. What if he hadn't woken up from the nap he'd been taking when the group had arrived, what if he was already caught by them? Riley squeezed her eyes shut again, trying to block the thought out of her mind and give Rick the benefit of the doubt. He'd been through tougher things than a group of men breaking into their house, she tried to have faith that he was okay. For now, at least.

"Go catch it. Get us some dinner for tonight." Another man said. A round of grimy laughter bubbled from below, and through the thickness of it Riley could hear another man come up the stairs.

When the laughter ran down, the girl could focus on a not so new sound, but one that she didn't quite dwell over before hence the little moment from the downstairs. Grunts and shouts echoed from the bedroom, the knocking over of lamps and smashing of bodies into dressers and such paired with it. A fight was happening, and Riley silently hoped that it was the two men who'd wandered upstairs and not Rick who was indulged. But in all honesty, how could it not be the Grimes man? As the other two were people from their own group, maybe they were even friends. It made much more sense for one of them to be fighting Rick than themselves- or maybe even teaming up against him. He could be on the floor right now, battling death as the two savage men beat at him and Riley didn't even know. Then again, the shouts coming from the room sounded nothing like Rick, maybe he was so well hidden they didn't even know he was in there with them.

Riley had wound herself so tightly in the blankets of her own thoughts that momentarily, she'd forgotten of the third man who'd come upstairs. Truthfully, she would've forgotten about him over all if his footsteps hadn't travelled closer to the bathroom, and closer to her hiding spot. Riley mouth slackened and she inhaled a tricky breath, trying to remind herself to breathe. The footsteps were agonizingly slow, like the man knew she was in there and he was trying to fill her frame with such immense fear that she would pop and lead him right to her. Riley took in a steadier breath, gripping her knife tightly and raising it, trying to prepare herself for what she knew was an inevitable attack.

The paces stopped right outside the bathroom door. One more was taken, and Riley swallowed, eyeing the shoe that past through the threshold and from the hallway into the bathroom. She couldn't see the man yet, but she knew he was there, perhaps waiting for something to come jumping out at him, but Riley didn't. Maybe it was the faintest glimmer of hope, the smallest flame wishing him away, trying to convince herself that he would retract back down the hall and find another room. But alas, that flame was blown to broken charcoal within the second. The man entered the room, his bigger and broader body completely capsized by the light walls of the bathroom.

A barking resonated from downstairs, shouts of the men who'd tried to claim the house following in suit. The man who'd walked into the bathroom spun around after hearing the noise, furrowing his eyebrows before waving it off with a scoff. As he began to turn back around and face forward, his eyes landed on Riley, standing in the corner with her knife raised, gleaming against the noon suns rays of precious light. At first the man seemed shocked, no apparent reaction coming to his face other than surprise. Riley shuddered a little, not quite knowing what to do. But the moment passed faster than the speed of light, and the man's face contorted into a glaring expression as he lunged for her. 

Riley ducked out of the way, appearing behind him as she stumbled to her feet. The man turned around quickly, going to grab at her again. Riley ran to her right, her back colliding with the shower glass and trapping her in a dead end. She kicked her foot out, landing a blow to the man's stomach as he tried to close his hands at her throat. He recovered quickly, standing up again, but this time, Riley had nowhere to go. He grabbed her leg, pulling her down so she crashed to the floor. Her knife flew from her hand at the impact, skittering across the stone floors and away from her reach. She kicked at the man again, shouting out as grabbed her by the shirt to try and drag her closer to himself, a bloodthirsty look engraved onto his face. Flipping onto her stomach, Riley tried to scramble toward her knife, looking back and attempting to elbow the man in the nose to try and distract him as much as she could while her fingers stretched toward the weapon.

The man grunted at the blow and pulled Riley back by the waist, making an extravagant effort to avoid her kicks and swings as she tried desperately to remove herself from his grasp. In a quick instant, he saw her knife laying on the floor, too far from either of them to be put to immediate use, but as he held the upper hand he seized his chance. He took a fistful of the back of Riley's shirt and shoved her to the side, lunging for her knife instead.

Riley glanced up, eyes widening in horror as the man's fist closed around her knife's handle. He turned back to her, and she noticed a thin stream of crimson liquid running from his nose. He wrapped his arm around her neck, trapping her in a chokehold as he tried to bring the knife down on her, which held its place in his opposite hand. Riley cried out as she caught the weapon by the blade, trying to prevent it from lodging itself into her chest. Her palms burned, like a fire had been lit upon her bare skin, growing hotter with every second that the knife cut through her flesh. Warm liquid ran down her forearms like a waterfall and red stained her skin and clothes, seeping into the cracks in the floor and splattering against the wall. 

A shout of agony was torn from Riley's throat as she pushed against the knife, her desperate attempts to get the blade away from her body beginning to fail as her strength grew weaker. The hold on her throat increased, erupting coughs and gags from the girl at insufferable volumes. Riley kicked her legs out, trying to knock at any part of the man's body she could in a hopeless attempt to loosen either of his grips. Her eyes blurred as her oxygen ran thin and the cuts in her hands grew deeper, redder, bloodier. She'd been at the brink of unconsciousness when a loud bark came again, this time, from the doorway. The man who'd attacked her cried out, releasing the girl from the chokehold he'd locked her in and dropping the knife. Riley gasped, falling to her stomach as she coughed, struggling to breathe after the pressure on her neck had been ripped away immediately. The burn in her hands began to buzz, the sight of blood spilling from the center that was so dark it deemed black made her dizzy. She looked over to where the man was, still heaving, and her eyes grew wide.

A dog was there- just like the men below had said. Its own face was covered in blood, its jaws closing and opening as it tore at the man's arm, tearing it to pieces. Riley tried to stumble to her feet, tripping and falling over the blood that ran along the floor. She backed away from the scene, trying to make a mad dash for the door and get into the hall, the dangers of the strange men in the house slipping her mind. She turned around, legs strengthening and beginning to run when her body collided with another person. Riley gasped, nearly falling again as she prepared herself to run back into the bathroom without even seeing the person when the anonymous man grasped her wrists, holding her steady.

"Riley!" Rick whisper-yelled, his voice heightened with worry and eyes wide in hysteria. "Are you okay?"

His eyes fell to her hands, jaw slackening at the sight before he glanced behind her, the sight of a bloodied man on the floor with a dog on top of him, fur matted with blood that stained its teeth staring right back at him. He adjusted a gun hanging on his shoulder- the same gun Riley had seen one of the men carrying earlier- and swallowed roughly.

"I'm okay." Riley nodded, breathing heavily. "I'm fine."

"Shit." Rick let go of the girl's wrists and examined the blood all over his hands. "We need to go, now. Follow me."

He brushed past her and opened the bathroom window, sticking his head out as he surveyed the ground below. Once he pulled back, he glanced at the man on the floor, who laid whimpering with a puddle of blood growing larger around him. The dog responsible for the mess sat back, staring at Rick while it perched.

Rick blinked a few times before striding over to a linen closet and pulling out a few wash cloths. He tossed two to Riley. "Put those on the cuts, we need to stop the bleeding."

Riley placed the white rags onto her palms, sucking in a breath at the contact. Upon the tiny action, it felt like the skin on the wounds tore open again. The colorless cloths grew a deep, scarlet, color, like the material was dipped into a cherry wine. She parted her lips, breathing heavily through her mouth, focus only on the wounds ripped in her hands when a familiar sound pierced her ears. It was the same sound she heard whenever someone put down a walker, except this one was harsher, as if the target were not as decayed and soft. Riley looked up, and saw Rick beginning to stand. On the floor, the man who had attacked her bore a final injury, a hole stabbed into his neck by the same blade he'd used to try and kill Riley. He choked, wheezing as blood was coughed up from his mouth like a fountain. He gasped as blood ran through his lips and into his lungs before stilling, his head falling to the stone floor as he died.

"Come on." Rick said, his voice gravelly. He gestured to the window. "We'll go out through here."

"Wait. We can't leave it." Riley vocalized. She looked at Rick with a slight plead in her expression, her chest still rising and falling at an intense pace.

Rick tilted his head a little bit, confusion overtaking him before he glanced down at the dog sitting innocently on the floor, glancing between the two as it licked its nose. It was the second time that dog had saved Riley- she was sure of it. It had the same coat, as well as a same white scar across its muzzle.

Rick closed his eyes, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

"Please." Riley said, hands shaking as she tried to press the cloth further into her open wounds.

"Fine. Get him up here- you hold onto him, got it?" Rick's voice was low, a near whisper.

Riley nodded, walking over to the dog and ushering it toward the window. She was slightly cautious of the fact that the animal might just have a strange bloodlust and desire to kill, and could possible attack her or Rick at any given moment, but she also had a small feeling that wasn't going to happen. She tried to put her trust into that small feeling.

"Go." She whispered to the dog. "Go!"

The animal walked across the floor, Riley's blood and the man's blood had mixed into one, melting into the dog's fur as it trotted to the other side of the room. It jumped up to the window sill and skittered onto the roof in an efficient matter of time, and Riley followed after it.

"You got it?" Rick asked, holding her steady as she balanced on the thin ledge of the window. He placed a hand on her back gently for support, and Riley stiffened. Their current circumstances didn't erase the situation they'd tumbled into just hours before.

"Yeah." Riley muttered, edging her way onto the roof and sliding down the tilted surface. She stood at an angle, trying to ignore the sharp sting in her hands that burned so hotly that she could almost feel the layers covering her bones begin to melt. She sniffled, glancing around until Rick was next to her, pulling his jacket on and holding his gun properly.

They edged around the roof until they found an area below with a drop not too damageable for them to land on. The safest seeming place had a deck below them, and Rick examined it before nodding, as if trying to convince himself this decision was a right one.

"I'll go down first, and then you follow me. I'll catch you, alright?" He asked quietly, looking at Riley.

The girl nodded, trying to trust the idea that this would end somewhat okay and wouldn't result in a few broken bones, or perhaps even death if the men downstairs found them jumping off the roof.

"Alright." Rick said. He shouldered the large gun carefully, and turned onto his stomach, letting his legs lean off the roof first. He slowly and very carefully began to inch his way off of the platform, holding onto the drainage pipe before free falling onto the deck below. The noise was loud, like a harsh thump that vibrated throughout the whole structure of the house- or maybe that was just Riley's nerves.

"You okay?" She asked quietly, peeking her head off of the side of the roof.

Rick nodded, placing the gun on floor and opening up his arms, motioning with his fingers to jump down. Riley nodded, taking a deep breath as she got as close to the edge as she could without falling. Just like Rick had, she let her legs go off first, supporting herself with her arms, as her palms were too torn and bloodied to be put to any use at the moment. The sensitivity in the whole area made her body shake ruthlessly. She glanced down for a second, trying to reassure herself that the ground was not too far away and that Rick wouldn't let her fall. The more hesitation the worse it would be, she knew, so without a second thought, she let go. Her stomach flipped with the airy drop, but the fall only lasted a few seconds before her body was encased by Rick's arms, the tips of her shoes brushing the wood of the deck floor.

"You good?" He asked, setting her down completely and letting her go.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Riley nodded, although it was only half true. The burning in her hands began to pulse, rapidly and heavily, like someone was pumping blood into the exposed flesh and watching it pour out at an extraordinary pace. "Get him."

Rick glanced up, looking at the dog's tilted head peering at him from above. He clapped twice, making sure the sound wasn't too loud as to draw attention from anyone inside. Riley checked on the cuts on her palms, noticing the way they bled still. One was more severe than the other, as the blade of the knife wasn't too long, so one took the brunt of the force while the other was more shielded to the impact. A soft grunt from Rick and the sound of a body colliding with another told Riley that the dog had jumped, and now the only thing they needed to do was escape.

Rick led them down the steps until their feet hit the soft green grass below them. They ran around the side of the house, Rick with his gun in clutch and Riley with the washcloths pressed gently into the palms of her hands, weeping tears of claret blood. They dog traveled beside them, its bloodied jaw clamped shut as if it knew the delicacies of their situation.

They backed up against a brick wall, underneath a second porch where the white paint of a once fancied house chipped until the rotten wood underneath shone through. Rick held his hand up, gesturing for their group to pause. Riley leaned against the wall, the rough texture of the bricks scraping at her skin, although she paid no mind. Her attention was sliced directly between following Rick's orders and the searing pain in the palms of her hands. She winced, breathing heavily as everything from her forearms and down shook, trembling with the throbbing pain. A glimmering shine began to form on her skin, sweat making a fashionable appearance as the fire in her hands began to spread throughout her body. 

"Hang in there." Rick whispered, holding up the gun so that it faced the expansive, blue, sky.

Riley barely had the strength in her to nod, just continuing to sit in the room of slow time and agonizing stings. She listened closely as a door opened above them and footsteps began to walk out onto the porch. God, how she hated the sound of footsteps now. The fear of unknowing, unknowing of who was going to come out at you, unknowing of what they were capable of doing, of what they were going to do.

The rhythmic bouncing of a ball varied between loud and quiet as the man who dropped and caught it in his hand came closer and farther as he paced. He stalked over to the side of the porch, his speed slowing down almost threateningly. Riley caught her breath, glancing over at Rick, for she wasn't exactly ready to meet the eyes of a murderous and vicious man staring down at her instead. 

The man spit over the edge of the porch, lingering there as he did so a few times. He didn't seem like he would be leaving any time soon. He whistled, the note high in pitch as the sound of a spoon scraping a can tingled Riley's ears. She glanced over at the dog beside her, the sound eliciting a reaction out of it. Its head tilted, ears perking up. Riley raised a finger and curled down her other ones, wincing as the injured skin flexed and squished, but she tried to ignore it. She pressed the finger to her lips, silently begging the dog to stay quiet. Perhaps it had been luck, or maybe the dog was extremely smart, but no sound left its mouth.

She felt Rick's body stiffen beside her, and she looked over at him, his face paling at a sight beyond her view. Riley leaned forward a bit, seeing the outline of Carl and Michonne come into view. Her heart nearly stopped.

"What do we do?" She whispered to the man beside her. 

Rick looked down at her, shaking his head a little as he raised the gun higher and reached his arm up to grip the bottom of the porch. "Stay quiet. Don't move."

Riley's eyes followed him carefully, inching back a little to give him the space he might need. She knew what his plan was, shoot the man on the porch and make a break for it. She tried to arrange herself to be ready to run, and although her legs felt weak, she knew she could do it. She didn't have much of a choice anyway, but she wouldn't give up that easily. She was so close already, nearly at the finish line.

Silently, Rick counted down in his head. He gripped the gun readily, taking a deep breath before he turned on his heels and pointed the gun at the body above them. The weapon nearly fired upon instant when a cry emerged from inside. The loud shouts of an argument rang throughout the atmosphere and the man above them grunted his annoyance.

"Son of a bitch." He muttered, his footsteps dying out as he left back inside, the sound two gunshots piercing the air and presumably a body being the only thing heard before the man took his final leave.

"Come on!" Rick whispered harshly, grabbing Riley's elbow and pulling them up.

They ran across the broken weeds and the remains of civilization that littered the grounds of the house's backyard. Riley clutched to the cloths on her hands, each step sending a shock through her body and stinging the open wounds yet again. It was funny, really, how an action that took place in the very bottom of her body somehow managed to affect the cuts on her hands.

"Go!" Rick yelled to Carl and Michonne, who saw them with wide eyes. "Go!"

They acted almost immediately, not questioning the gunshots or the large gun in Rick hands, neither the bleeding wounds on Riley's palms or the random dog running with them. 

Riley glanced back one final time, the disappointment of leaving the place she'd actually liked to think of as a temporary home clawing at her sharply. It was only meant to be a simple, longing, glance, the kind one would take for the last beautiful picture placed in their memories to remember by, but a face in the window nearly pulled the rug out from beneath her, nearly tripped her until she tumbled and went sprawling across the grass. The face was familiar, so familiar. Riley didn't even have to second guess if she'd seen it before, because she knew she had. She only had to second guess if she were perceiving things wrong, that the loss of blood she'd underwent in the past fifteen minutes was beginning to mess with her. Riley forced herself to turn back around, knowing that she'd end up tripping or knocking into someone if she didn't. The pairing thought that she'd drive herself crazy if she kept staring at that face in the window panes also convincing her to keep her eyes trained forward. 

She began to fall into step with Carl, whose gaze fell to the blood soaked rags in her hands and then up to her face, his expression deeming concern like no other. Still, he said nothing, running away from the house and away from the savage men whose hands held certain death. His own, though, carried sanctuary, safety, even, as it placed itself onto the hollow of Riley's back. They ran, far away from the neighborhood, lungs burning with desperation for air and legs tiring from the constant run, but still, they didn't stop. And they didn't look back again. Rick and Michonne moved a little ahead of them, bodies moving tirelessly as they broke through the perimeter and ran as far away from the predatory group as possible. Riley forced herself to look forward, ignore Rick's image as best she could. She felt like the world was beating down on her with fists of fiery iron, and every time she got to her feet it came down on her again. After hearing what she had about Meg and her death and of Rick's star role in the whole ordeal, the sight of him made her nauseous, sick, like she'd lost something again. Something she thought she'd always have, and just like always, was torn from her in the end.

a/n - i wanted to make a chapter revolving around riley and rick bc their relationship means sm to me :)

- also, riley's anger toward rick is mainly bc she feels betrayed by him knowing and not telling her ab meg's bite + basically figuring out she was already dead. ik it seems like she's overreacting but i also feel like riley is very sensitive to the topic already and i wanted to add more depth onto it all :)

- i don't want it to seem like riley is the type of character who needs saving all the time bc that's def not how i want to write her / how i see her, but i also wanted to introduce the dog bc someone brought the idea of a pet up earlier and i see riley as a major animal lover so i had to do it. anyway, she's not always going to need help from other people when it comes to those life or death situations bc i do see her as very capable like when she killed the governor n shit, but still character development will happen so dw  

- ik we didn't get a lot of riley and carl action in this chap but next part will be centered around them !! i promise it'll be worth it <33 thank u guys sm for the love and 19k reads u guys are so supportive and sweet :)) votes and comments are appreciated and super motivational and next part will come soon !!

- p.s my a/n's r always so long so sorry ab that LMFAO and there's prob typos everywhere in this chap so i apologize for that too <33